


Spellbound

by electricblueninja



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, misuse of moisturiser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-18 18:33:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3579633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricblueninja/pseuds/electricblueninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Changmin interrupts Yunho experimenting with beauty products. They are not used for their intended purposes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spellbound

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing but my happy little fantasies. 
> 
> This was actually inspired a long time ago by a particular M----- advertisement but it is long gone; it's been about a year between when I started and when I went back to, uh, finish. If I ever do remember/relocate the image I'll probably stick it up here.
> 
> Happy reading.

Changmin stopped short as he opened the door to the bathroom in Yunho's flat. 

 

Yunho stood in front of the sink in nothing but a towel, his long, thick torso glistening as droplets trailed down his skin, fresh from the shower.

 

Today, however, _that_ wasn't what brought Changmin to a standstill. 

 

Oh no.

 

Today, it was the tubes.

 

Yunho had always been more of a no-frills kind of guy. He'd happily let other people pamper and polish him—that was literally part of the job description. There were clauses in their contracts mandating a degree of enforced grooming. But to Changmin's knowledge Yunho had never personally owned anything fancier than aftershave. And if memory served, he'd only started using that because Changmin had _given_ it to him.

 

So it was a bit of a surprise to see him standing in front of the mirror with a veritable army of beauty products spread across the benchtop before him. Dripping and slightly confused, he was standing there with a tube in one hand and a glob of white unction in the other, frowning at it as though it had said something offensive. 

 

To say that Changmin was ‘a little surprised’ was an understatement. He stopped. He stared. He frowned. He squinted. He closed his eyes and shook his head, but when he opened them again the only thing that had changed was Yunho had brought the ointment a little closer to his face. 

 

He was so stunned by the ridiculous tableau that he couldn’t even muster up any irritation at Yunho failing to acknowledge his arrival. 

 

_Don't lose your cool, Choikang,_ he admonished himself, letting go of the door.

 

'I can help you with a place to put that,' he said, trying to convince himself that he walked in on Yunho playing with skin care products every day. 

 

Yunho's scowling lips curved upwards as he tried not to laugh, and his eyebrows curled upwards and inwards as he tried to formulate a sentence.

 

'I think,' he said slowly, 'it's some kind of moisturiser.' 

 

The English word didn't so much roll off his tongue as collapse in a heap and die. Changmin wanted to hug him for being so wonderfully ignorant, but didn’t want to get the suit jacket wet. 

 

It was on loan from wardrobe. Armani.

 

A problem easily solved. He took it off and hung it on the back of the door, then crossed the metre between them in a couple of strides, standing behind Yunho and reaching around him to pluck the tube out of his hand. ‘It’s a moisturiser,’ he confirmed. ‘For your face.’ 

 

Their eyes locked in the mirror. 

 

Changmin liked the way they looked together. 

 

Well, actually, the majority of his own reflection was hidden behind his hyung’s broad-shouldered, mostly-naked body, but that was absolutely fine from Changmin’s point of view. It just made more room for caramel skin and white towel and white teeth and dark eyes, and Changmin’s face over one muscular shoulder. He was also gratified by the extra inch of height he had over Yunho, though the satisfaction was moderated by the bitter reality of having to wear insoles to achieve it. 

 

He stared at Yunho’s handsome features, revelling in the damp heat rolling off his body in waves, and admired the slow expansion of his chest, the ripple of abdominal muscle as he breathed. 

 

But the frozen moment did not last—without warning, Yunho turned towards him, his wet hair leaving a stripe of moisture across Changmin’s cheekbones that was abruptly followed by actual moisturiser.

 

Changmin flinched in surprise but didn’t protest. Yunho’s fingertips were rough, but there was tenderness behind the unpractised gesture, and this way he got a fantastic view of the flipside: Yunho’s muscular back on full display in the mirror. The only thing disrupting the view was the bottles and jars all over the place. And literally all of them, Changmin realised after a moment, were a certain trademark red.

 

With some effort, he retrained his eyes on Yunho’s face. And then on Yunho’s eyes, because his lips were pouted as he concentrated, and that was distracting. ‘Hyung, is this stuff all M— products?’

 

Yunho looked up through his eyelashes (bless these insoles), embarrassment blossoming across his cheekbones. He mumbled something that sounded a lot like ‘Maybe’, followed by ‘Can’t advertise it if I’ve never used it’, then turned back to the sink and began rummaging busily and aimlessly through the lotions and creams.

 

Changmin tried desperately not to smile, but it was hard. This was so like him. Yunho was so...sincere. And about _advertising_ , of all things. Speedy, to boot – they’d only received the offer from the liaison division yesterday, so he must’ve gone out and bought all of this straight away. He squashed the urge to push Yunho over the counter and slide a hand under that stupidly small excuse for a towel.

 

The human kitten had given up rummaging through the brightly coloured chemical assortment and was now standing there, scowling at it, so Changmin put thoughts of exploration aside in favour of giving his poor confounded hyung a little assistance. Frowning into the mess until he found what he was looking for, he took extra care to let his soft satiny sleeve slide against Yunho’s waist as he reached for it, leaning in a little closer so that his lips were barely an inch from his lover’s ear. 

 

Yunho’s breathing quickened.

 

‘You need to stop wearing insoles, Changminnie,’ he said, sounding petulant.  

 

Changmin pressed a little closer, so that his inner thigh against Yunho's hip, and he would be able to feel his growing erection, and made a vague noise that might have been agreement, though it probably wasn’t. 

 

'I mean it, Changdola. How can you do this to me? I'm your hyung. You're not allowed to outgrow me.'

 

Changmin unscrewed the lid on the moisturiser and scooped some onto his palms, rubbing them together once or twice to warm up the cool cream. He then reached around Yunho's body again, only this time, he placed his palms high on Yunho's chest and smoothed the moisturiser down his torso.

 

Yunho made a face and muttered, 'You're not even listening. Fine, just ignore your own hyung, that's – ' but he was cut short as Changmin slowly and deliberately slid his fingers underneath the edge of the white towel. Changmin felt the tight jerk of Yunho's abdominal muscle, twitching as his fingers passed over the margin of skin that preceded the coarse curls of his pubic hair.

 

Then, Changmin stopped and withdrew.

 

'This one's called body butter, Yunho,' he said, his lips brushing his earlobe, and Yunho's breath hitched. 

 

'It's for...' Changmin paused to check the wording on the label. 'Silky smooth skin, to soften the way you move through life.' He smirked, and pushed a little harder against Yunho's backside to demonstrate the irony of the statement. His fingertips remained poised on his hyung's hips, but now he retracted them for another helping of the cold white goop. 'What do you think so far?' he asked, opening his eyes wide in mock-innocence. 'Are you feeling softer?'

 

Yunho stared at him in their reflection, his eyes like coals. A muscle in his jaw twitched. 

 

Changmin beamed, and spread the new generous helping of cream across the fingertips of both hands before letting his hands drop to Yunho’s hamstrings, find their way beneath the towel, and slide upwards to the hard curve of his butt.

 

The moisturiser he let spread everywhere. Then, splaying his fingers either side of Yunho’s hips, he used his thumbs to guide the majority of it back inwards. Yunho’s muscles were pliant under his fingertips; his skin was warm and damp, his body still relaxed from the heat of the shower. In their reflection his eyelids drooped, then closed completely, his lips parting with unvoiced appreciation. Changmin stooped to kiss the side of his neck as his thumbs met, drawing small circles either side of the top of his glutes, where taut muscles attached to bone not too far underneath warm brown skin.

 

Yunho took in a deep breath, his hands reaching for the edge of the bench, for balance, and Changmin noted with satisfaction that the towel was doing little to restrain his increasing arousal. 

 

He allowed his thumbs to trace the innermost line of Yunho’s glutes, and watched their reflection carefully for every minute response. A smile ghosted across the older man’s face as he pushed his hips back into Changmin’s hands.

 

‘Changdola,’ he said, without opening his eyes, ‘I think you’re overdressed.’

 

Changmin let his thumbs press inwards, sliding back up Yunho’s butt cheeks. He could feel the tremors that ran through Yunho’s body—the wordless invitation—and the knowledge that Yunho wanted him perversely made him want to tease him.

 

‘Overdressed?’ he echoed, injecting his voice with fake innocence.

 

He retracted his hands and unbuckled his belt, quietly, calculated so that Yunho wouldn’t hear it.

 

A frown crossed Yunho’s face and he opened his eyes, smoky and frustrated as they caught Changmin’s in the mirror. Changmin smiled back at him, and Yunho made to turn around, but Changmin was faster, pulling his belt free of his trousers and closing it in a loop around Yunho’s wrists. Moving right up against Yunho’s back and reaching around with his other hand, he jerked the black leather tight, and watched the veritable parade of expressions cross the older man’s face. 

 

‘Wait,’ he said into Yunho’s ear, after he’d finished winding the leather round his wrists. 

 

He placed his hands over Yunho’s bound ones as he drew his lips along the shell of the older man’s ear, still holding his gaze. It was Yunho who looked down, a wave of gooseflesh washing over his skin. 

 

‘Wait,’ Changmin murmured again. 

 

He withdrew his hands completely to get into the serious business of unbuttoning his shirt: nice and slow and in full view of Yunho’s hungry eyes. He’d been on the diet from hell for two full months now, and was looking forward to their string of live performances being over, so he could start eating carbohydrates again, but as far as appearances went, it had paid off. Yunho was staring fixedly at the reflection of his abs, licking his lips like they were an actual chocolate bar.

 

‘The pants, Minnie. Take them off.’ 

 

Yunho’s voice was a little tighter than before, and he’d dropped his speech back to simple commands. Changmin knew that this meant that he was winning, so he did as Yunho ordered, acutely aware of the eyes following his every movement. He kept his underwear for now, though, and made sure to move extra slow; to tense up and stretch a little more than he needed to as he hung the trousers neatly with the jacket on the door.

 

As he moved back to Yunho, he revelled in the feeling of his hyung’s eyes scouring his body. He was staring so hard Changmin swore it was a physical sensation, and it gave him the most gratifying sense of control. 

 

Making sure he was too close for comfort, he located another bottle and squeezed a sluice of it out onto his fingers, then rubbed the ointment between his fingers and held them up in full view. 

 

‘What should I do with this, hyung?’

 

The answer was immediate.

 

And decisive.

 

‘Put it on your dick.’ 

 

Changmin was slightly taken aback.

 

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He saw his own eyes widen and his cheeks flush before his gaze flicked instinctively down to the concealed curve of Yunho’s ass. Mental images of naked caramel skin came flooding into his mind, drumming against the dam of his self-control. 

 

Yunho responded to his facial question mark with a smug expression. It was somewhere between the soft, indulgent look he got when talking to children, and the faintly patronising attitude that emerged when he was talking to people he thought might be a bit simple (like politicians).

 

‘Put it on your dick,’ Yunho repeated, slowly and clearly, as one might to the hearing impaired. His smile widened as Changmin glanced up again, trying to hide his astonishment by clearing his throat, and failing abysmally.

 

‘Hyung, I’m not going to…I mean…still need to…’

 

He floundered, unable to form sentences properly, and Yunho sighed with exasperation. 

 

‘What do you think I was doing in the shower, Changdola?’ he asked. 

 

Just like that, Changmin felt his control of the situation vanish as though it had never existed.

 

‘Put it on your dick,’ Yunho repeated, patiently but firmly.

 

With a strange sense of detachment, Changmin felt his own pulse quicken. He liberated his cock with his unction-free hand, suffering a moment’s indignity as he struggled out of the leg holes and avenging himself by sending the offending article into the corner of the room with a violent kick. Yunho just watched, leaning over the bench with a self-satisfied expression that gave rise to intense irritation in Changmin.

 

Stepping back so that Yunho could see, Changmin took his creamy fingers and ran them down the shaft of his dick in a long, slow stroke, careful to demonstrate just how firm his…resolve…to follow through on Yunho’s suggestion had become. 

 

It got the desired effect; the smug smile shuddered and disappeared in a shaky, shallow breath, and was replaced by a hungry look.

 

He repeated the action twice, slower each time, because the frustration that began to show on Yunho’s face was worth every second of his own. Yunho’s parted lips tightened into a thin line, and his smooth forehead creased; wrapped tightly around his wrists and forearms, the belt creaked as his hands curled into fists.

 

‘Changmin,’ he said, the undertone desperate as Changmin squeezed another handful of ointment into his hand, ‘That’s _enough_.’

 

Changmin closed his hand over his cock again, tipping his head back, eyes closed, letting out a loud moan of pleasure. ‘You have the _best_ ideas, hyung…’

 

‘Changmin. Put. Your. Dick. In. Me.’

 

There it was. The control was his again. 

 

Effused by satisfaction, _this_ time Changmin had the strength to arch an eyebrow at the command. He stepped in towards his hyung, guiding his cock carefully in a line down between Yunho’s ass cheeks, and placing a hand on the small of his back, tutting as Yunho pushed back against him.

 

‘Not so fast.’ 

 

Yunho responded with a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl, but he only got as far as a pissy ‘Shim Changmin’ before the rest of the words were replaced by wide eyes and an ‘Ohh’ as Changmin slid a slick inch inside of him. 

 

He hadn’t been lying. He was well and truly prepared. A moan escaped Changmin’s mouth as he slid inside the slick circle of muscle, and it was only with a monumental utilisation of his self-control that he was able to keep to his plan, and only push in an inch before pulling _almost_ all the way out again.

 

Yunho made a small sound of protest and pushed his hips back, wanting more, but Changmin steeled himself against the wordless appeal, determined to take it slow. However bittersweet the decision seemed now, he knew it would be worth it, because it wasn’t all that often he had a whole afternoon free to have Yunho bound and bent over his bathroom benchtop. Although maybe, just maybe, this _should_ ; be a regular thing. It was a perfect vantage point for voyeurism: if he looked down, he got a full view of himself sinking between Yunho’s firm round butt cheeks, and if he looked up, well...Yunho was still a little wet and dripping, his eyes closed and his mouth open. He was rocking his body slowly against Changmin’s cock, trying to coax him deeper, and every time the droplets one his skin would slip a little, and the ones in his hair would shiver. 

 

And then there were the acoustics—the crude squelching as Changmin slid in and out of Yunho’s wet hole. It was a grotesque sound, but the way it filled the room was arousing and strangely satisfying all the same: a strange rhythm interrupted only by their breathing and the occasional creak of leather, or the clink of the belt buckle against the benchtop. Changmin eased in another fraction, trying hard to limit himself to only another inch, and forced to settle for halfway, because he was only human. In reality, Yunho was receptive to a point where he was kind of just proud that he hadn’t already gone in balls-deep.

 

Yunho had started a whine of frustration that turned into one of relief as Changmin went in deeper, but his muscles also began to clench, gripping Changmin more tightly, and it was strengthening many things that were not his self-control. 

 

His nerves beginning to fray, he sunk his hands into the hard muscle of Yunho’s waist, keeping him carefully at the right distance and changing the angle of his thrusts experimentally, waiting for Yunho’s voice to reach the right timbre; the note that would tell him where to go. 

 

It didn’t take long before he got it—a jagged cry of his name split the air, and the convulsions around him became more urgent; needier. So, clutching the last ragged edges of his own composure as well as Yunho’s hard body, he began driving steadily deeper and slower, Yunho’s moans rising note by note to match. 

 

‘Changmin—Changmin,’ he began to gasp, with a frenzied undertone, ‘Changmin, touch me, please, I can’t—’

 

_The belt._ Maybe not such a great idea after all.

 

Changmin pulled out all the way, slowly and carefully. He let out a pained whine as he did so, echoed by Yunho beneath him. His shoulders rippling, Yunho pushed up off the bench and turned to face him, half mad and half desperate beneath the tangle of his damp fringe. The wildness in his eyes left Changmin’s head spinning, and it took all of his concentration not to make a mess right then and there.

 

‘Get on the floor, hyung,’ he ground out. 

 

Understanding dawning in his eyes, Yunho hastily obliged. Braced against the tiles, he pushed his ass into the air, and Changmin knelt behind him, positioning his cock, wet with precum and covered in moisturiser, against his asshole. He slid in partway, carefully, and took a moment to wipe the sweat from his forehead onto his shoulder before wrapping his right hand gently around Yunho’s thick, hard dick, the other tangling in his hair. (Times like this he really did miss the early days—specifically, the ponytail.)

 

‘Are you ready, hyung?’

 

‘Yes, yes—’

 

‘How bad do you want it, hyung?’

 

‘ _Fuck me_ , Changdol. You can be such a—’

 

Changmin never found out what he was, though. Just that he was able to make Yunho hit a fantastically full-bodied note that he’d never heard him reach before (not on-stage, anyway). And after that, that silence and the soft muffled wet sound of deep, quick thrusts seemed almost as loud when they were fucking like rabbits, and his blood was roaring through his ears, and he could feel Yunho’s heartbeat. He made a fist around Yunho’s dick and let his hyung fuck into it, their bodies instinctively synchronising, right down to their voices—Changmin’s grunts had subsided to silent concentration, while Yunho’s soft moans had dropped back to heavy panting, only an occasional hoarse whimper escaping.

 

‘Changmin, I—’

 

Changmin knew. He’d already felt Yunho’s climax building through the increasing pressure around his dick and the throbbing of his hyung’s, and was trying desperately to manage his own, to make sure they shared that strange blinding moment where everything made sense and felt right. But at Yunho’s breathless warning, he released a breath of relief he’d not even realised he’d been holding. 

 

At the same time as drove into his lover with a last burst of short sharp thrusts, Changmin also took a deep breath, and tried desperately to savour the strange timelessness of the moment before Yunho came through his fingers. 

 

It didn’t work—it never did, because seconds later, everything was white and glowing, and he wasn’t even sure he would have known his own name if it hadn’t been rolling off Yunho’s tongue like a prayer.

 

He managed to stay upright for long enough to pull out, as gently as he could, his cock spitting a last jet of cum into Yunho’s stretched asshole like a gleaming compliment. 

 

Yunho, utterly spent, only moaned softly and folded into the foetal position beneath him. 

 

As the last shiver of his orgasm rushed through him, Changmin admired the mess he’d made with his usual perverted satisfaction. Privately, he was of the opinion that nothing was more aesthetic than post-sex mess. Yunho’s back was covered in tiny droplets again, but it was sweat now, matching Changmin’s own saturated face and neck. 

 

As his eyes flicked up over Yunho’s shoulders, he was reminded of the belt, and ran his non, or at least less, cum-covered hand up over Yunho’s sweat-slicked back and down his arms to unbuckle it. 

 

Yunho mumbled a thanks, but didn’t move, so Changmin folded himself down over his warm body, soaking up the general delirium, before waking him up fifteen minutes later, because, 'Hyung...hyung? You're going to need another shower.'

**Author's Note:**

> AN: /does not recommend moisturisers in favour of condoms and water-based lubricants/


End file.
